


something isn't right, babe (I keep catching little words, but the meaning's thin)

by aletterinthenameofsanity



Series: don't believe in fairy tales (but I believe in you and me) [2]
Category: Die Gänsemagd | The Goose Girl, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Dubious Consent, M/M, Memory Charms, Mind Manipulation, Spells & Enchantments, Unreliable Narrator, not between Arthur and Merlin, the most unreliable narrator I've ever written, very loose reinterpretation of the fairytale, very very loose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-02 00:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17877842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aletterinthenameofsanity/pseuds/aletterinthenameofsanity
Summary: Arthur knows he used to love his husband. He used to love Owain- he can remember when his heart fluttered around his husband, when the very mention of Owain's name could make Arthur's heart race.(Owain used to call him pra- no, clot- no, Arthur can’t quite remember the way he used to tease. He can only remember the feeling of respect and love between him and his husband on the night they were married, the amount of fun they were having.)Now, everything feels wrong when it comes to his husband. His husband’s lips taste like ale instead of strawberries. His hands are the wrong size in Arthur’s, too large, and his eyes are too cold. His ears are too small, his words too harsh, his magic not right-Arthur frowns in the middle of the hunt. Magic? His husband doesn’t have magic. No one in the court has magic, not since Morgana betrayed them all.“Princess?” Gwaine asks, brow furrowed in concern, “You all good?”Arthur nods, ignoring the jibe for once. “I’m just fine,” he says.There’s something missing. There is someone, some voice, some laugh, that isn’t here.(And it’s driving Arthur insane.)





	something isn't right, babe (I keep catching little words, but the meaning's thin)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Sedated" by Hozier.
> 
>  
> 
> This story originally started off as something a lot closer to the fairytale "The Goose Girl" but went severely off the rails, only maintaining certain plot devices from the original fairytale. I've been wanting to write an AU based off of the faiytale for ages (it is my favorite fairytale, after all), and of course that meant that I would change so much of it when writing.

_“Sometimes," he sighed, "I think the things I remember are more real than the things I see. ”_

**― Arthur Golden**

  

Arthur knows he used to love his husband. He used to love Owain- he can remember when his heart fluttered around his husband, when the very mention of Owain's name could make Arthur's heart race.

(Owain used to call him  _pra_ \- no,  _clot_ \- no, Arthur can’t quite remember the way he used to tease. He can only remember the feeling of respect and love between him and his husband on the night they were married, the amount of fun they were having.)

Now, everything feels wrong when it comes to his husband. His husband’s lips taste like ale instead of strawberries. His hands are the wrong size in Arthur’s, too large, and his eyes are too cold. His ears are too small, his words too harsh, his magic not right-

Arthur frowns in the middle of the hunt. Magic? His husband doesn’t have magic. No one in the court has magic, not since Morgana betrayed them all.

“Princess?” Gwaine asks, brow furrowed in concern, “You all good?”

Arthur nods, ignoring the jibe for once. “I’m just fine,” he says.

There’s something missing. There is someone, some voice, some laugh, that isn’t here.

(And it’s driving Arthur insane.)

-

Arthur keeps getting distracted by the Goose Boy.

Arthur keeps coming back to the field outside of his window, keeps staring at the boy who herds the geese across the field. There's something about the boy that almost feels familiar, despite the fact that Arthur's nearly certain he's never noticed the boy before.

He falls asleep in bed next to his husband and ends up dreaming of dragons, of flying above the clouds, of fire in his nostrils and magic lining his limbs. He dreams of clouds against his scales, of a world beneath his wings.

He dreams of blue eyes and a lop-sided smile, of the amount of power it would take to level an army with a single word. He dreams of flowers and flames, kisses under mistletoe and eyes glowing gold.

When he awakes, Arthur feels a keen sense of loss, like his very heart has been torn from his chest.

-

Arthur catches the Goose Boy one night, outside of his window, with the smallest of lights in his hand. And it's not a candlelight, no- There is nothing in his hands but a small, never flickering light.

That's not possible. There is no way to keep a light burning like that save in drawings, no way to turn your hand into a beacon without-

But Arthur doesn't say a word. He's not sure how he feels about magic, but he doesn't believe the Goose Boy to be harmful. The boy seems peaceful enough.

-

“What happened to Gaius?” he asks his husband one night after they have 

“Who’s Gaius?” His husband asks, and Arthur blinks. Who  _is_ Gaius? Is he some childhood tutor?

"Nevermind, my love," Arthur says. No need to bother his husband with childhood memories.

- 

The Goose Boy is not soft. He is not a pushover. When Arthur finally goes to meet him, the goose boy does nothing but argue and taunt.

"What is your name, idiot?" Arthur asks as they've chased each other through the stables, fighting and name-calling the entire time.

“Emrys, you clotpole,” the Goose Boy says, spitting the wordsin a fierce way that lights something in Arthur’s chest aflame.

And Arthur doesn't remember the last time he felt like that. 

-

Arthur stops spending as much time around his husband, the Prince Consort Owain, as he used to. They don't have as much in common anymore- Owain is no longer as kind or engaging as he used to be.

Arthur wonders what changed things between them. He wonders what led a marriage based on love to descend into braced words and uncomfortable conversations.

Was it the pressure of ruling a kingdom, of being married to the King of Camelot? After all, Arthur knows that Owain was not always a Prince Consort. Once, he was merely a peasant raised in a border village.

Arthur just wants to love his husband again. 

-

A king arrives in Camelot, a long trail of abuses following in his wake. Arthur has heard of the way death and destruction follows his footsteps like a rotten stench. 

“We should engage with him, Your Majesty,” Arthur’s husband says, and Arthur frowns.

“Why should we negotiate a treaty with King Gareth?” Arthur asks. “He is well-known for disobeying all the laws of chivalry and honor.”

“But he is the king of the kingdom I am from, darling,” Owain says, “And for the sake of the alliance, we should parley with him.”

Arthur could have sworn that his husband was from a small town in Cenred’s kingdom, but now that he thinks about it, his memories seem a bit rough. Perhaps it was a small town on the boundary of Gareth’s kingdom, or perhaps in Gareth’s castle, or perhaps he was Gareth’s ward himself?

“For the sake of our alliance, of course,” Arthur says, though he thought he married for love. Maybe he didn’t and he just fooled himself into thinking so.

But for the sake of honor, if not genuine feeling- he shall listen to his husband, the Prince Consort of Camelot. It’s the chivalrous thing to do.

-

Arthur remembers a time when his husband came to him freely, sharing his honest thoughts on any matter. He remembers respecting his husband's opinions, actively seeking out his husband for most matters that a King should have handled on his own.

The man who lies beside him in bed, sits on the throne beside him- this is a man he barely knows, much less a man he could trust to give him a genuine and worthy opinion. This man does not challenge him, not anymore, and the few things he speaks up on his arguments seem in the defense of ruthlessness, not justice.

-

Arthur is down in the field by the stables, speaking to Emrys about his recent issues.

(To be honest, he's unsure why he feels so comfortable speaking with Emrys about such intimate matters such as his problems with his husband, but he does.)

“No offense, sire,” Emrys says in that tone that speaks to how much he doesn’t actually care about offending Arthur. “But you’d have to be a complete prat to deal with a man such as King Gareth.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask you, then,” Arthur snaps, though without true ire, and Emrys just rolls his eyes.

"You want my opinion, don't lie to yourself, sire," Emrys says, and the word "sire" sounds less like an honorific and more like an affectionate nickname. 

-

But Arthur truly feels angry when he hears the sound Owain’s hand makes as it hits Gwen’s skin after she spills a glass of wine, sees the way she flinches away. He will not have this in his castle. Being his husband does not excuse such harsh treatment of anyone, no matter their station.

“How dare you strike a servant,” Arthur hisses. “We are the Rulers of Camelot- we respect all of our subjects."

“I am your husband,” Owain says, “I am Prince Consort of Camelot, and she is nothing but a peasant.”

“If you think that, you do not deserve to be Camelot’s Prince,” Arthur says, steel in his spine, fire in his throat. (He can feel that dragon in his heart, the rush of magic pricking against his skin. It isn’t his magic, but it feels like something he once loved.)

“Is that any way to speak to your husband?” Owain asks, eyes wide, jaw dropped, and Arthur doesn’t much care.

“I am the King, and you are just the Prince,” Arthur says, “And I will not let you treat the servants like that.”

Owain nods, though his expression is clearly displeased, and Arthur has no idea where everything went wrong. When did his husband turn from the person he trusted most into the enemy he has to defend his people from?

-

That night, Arthur goes down to the stables. He cannot bear to spend more time than required in the presence of his Consort.

There, he finds Emrys sweeping quietly. 

“I heard about Prince Owain,” Emrys says, voice cautious, “And about what you said to him."

Arthur nods. He doesn't want to expose any of the fight between him and Owain- he respects his husband far more than that.

Emrys stops his work with the broom for a moment and looks up at Arthur. His gaze is kind and cool, nothing like the fire he initially met Arthur with. He reaches his hand forward to touch Arthur's, and his skin is cool and familiar, somehow, against Arthur's skin. Then Emrys presses a small whittled object into Arthur’s hand. At least, Arthur thinks it’s whittled- it’s made of wood, and there is no other way for a simple Goose Boy to carve wood save to whittle, but it feels so smooth under his fingers and he has to wonder.

“Thank you, sire,” Emrys says, voice soft- too soft, too kind, everything Arthur thought his husband’s voice to be before he was proven wrong.

-

That night, he dreams of a simple floating candle, the echo of a gentle laugh as the fire hovers less than an inch from the end of his fingers.

He wakes up smiling for the first time in months.

-

The next time Arthur catches Owain hurting a servant, things go differently. Arthur intervenes as before, but instead of Owain capitulating to his orders, Owain doesn't flinch in his actions.

“I'm your husband,” Owain says, eyes cold, voice hard, “You listen to me.”

“We listen to  _each other_ ,” Arthur says, though he is seriously doubting it nowadays. “That's why Camelot and our marriage are so strong.”

“I'm your King,” Owain says, and Arthur could have sworn  _he_ was King, but that must have been a dishonorable lie he told himself. Arthur  _is_ the Prince Consort, not the King. How could he have possibly thought himself above his station? Camelot is not his; it is Owain's. “You obey me. This marriage is not an equal partnership- it is an alliance, with you below me.”

“You are correct, sire,” Arthur says, and a pain splits through his temple as a sour taste fills his mouth. “I apologize for my indiscretion.”

Owain looks almost surprised, for some reason, but he nods.

-

Arthur dreams of kissing a blue-eyed man whose lips smell of strawberries, whose skin tastes like magic. There is a voice Arthur can't place that teases and plies, that meets Arthur where he is and inspires Arthur to push further.

When he awakes, he finds himself in bed with his husband, who just orders him around and whose kisses are stale and who never listens to Arthur's opinions about anything. 

-

Everything goes to shite when Arthur enters the Great Hall a few weeks later and finds King Owain standing at the throne with, to Arthur's horror, Emrys kneeling in front of him, his wrists chained in magic-dampening irons. 

“This servant has been caught using magic,” King Owain declares, “He shall be executed at dawn.”

“I won't let this happen,” Arthur says, and for a moment, he feels strong and brave in a way he hasn’t been able to for months.

“Then you yourself will be thrown in the dungeons,” the King says, voice sharp, “I don't need some Goose Boy thinking he can just use his magic to enchant my husband and turn my kingdom upside down."

"Then I will go to the dungeons," Arthur says. 

King Owain looks at Arthur, and Arthur has never seen such a cold gaze before. "If that is what satisfies His Highness, then that is what he shall do."

-

Arthur is taken to a different set of chambers and locked in there, but he remembers how to sneak out of the room.

These haven't been his chambers for ages, not since before he was married, but he can remember living in these rooms as a teenager, when Morgana still lived in the castle and his father was still alive. He remembers figuring out how to sneak out of these rooms, how to turn sheets into ropes and use the ivy crawling up the side of the castle to climb down.

He has to get to the dungeons and save Emrys before he is executed.

-

But when Arthur arrives in the dungeon, he knows that he is too late. The door to the cell at the front of the hallway is open, and he can see Owain with his knife held over Emrys' hands.

Arthur doesn't think. He doesn't hesitate. His sword is in his hand in an instant, and he lunges forward. His blade goes through Owain's soft stomach and blood splatters on his knuckles as Owain falls to the ground.

It takes a moment for him to realize what he's done. Oh, by the great Goddess. He's killed the King. That's high treason. He's going to face execution for that.

But no matter what happens, he can't regret what he's done. There is nothing more dishonorable than killing a unarmed man, especially one who has done nothing wrong. Arthur will never let anyone take advantage of those less powerful than them, even if that person is his husband, the King.

"King Arthur?" Emrys asks, and Arthur looks up as Owain’s pendant cracks open and the pieces fall to the ground and shatter.

For a moment, the world stands still. Arthur feels something empty fall out of his stomach, as something in the world itself resets itself.

Then Emrys’ eyes glow, and the world rips itself open.

-

There is a dragon screaming, and fire burning itself through Arthur’s flesh, and he can see the wide, wide world, all of it, every memory of the world since its beginning.

He watches as everything burns down to nothingness, as the world itself rejects what is wrong, and then everything goes dark.

-

Arthur blinks awake, and the first thing he sees is Merlin, standing above him. “Merlin?” he asks, and his husband helps him to his feet.

“He's dead,” Merlin says, and Arthur sees the corpse that used to be-

“What in the Great Goddess’ name happened?” Arthur nearly shouts.

“A simple memory charm,” Merlin says, “Temporarily suppressed the memories of anyone who entered the castle walls, until they exited the castle, and permanently suppressed the memories of anyone who touched the man's skin. It was also malleable, continually altering memories to whatever the sorcerer wanted."

In the end, it was just a simple memory charm. Of course it was just a simple memory charm that brought Camelot to its knees, brought Arthur to his knees, separated him from his husband and nearly ended with Merlin dead.

"So for however long this has been happening," Arthur says, "That sorcerer has been controlling all of Camelot by a memory charm?"

Merlin nods. "But we got rid of it before too much damage could happen." 

Arthur looks at Merlin, at his husband, at how his face is a little thinner than he remembers it being, almost as thin as it was when he first arrived in Camelot, all those years ago. "I'm sorry about what you had to go through."

Merlin gives him a small, crooked smile. "Not like I'm not used to nearly being killed on a regular basis."

Arthur wishes that wasn't true, but as Arthur's Court Sorcerer (not to mention all those years beforehand, when Merlin was doing all of that without the title or the recognition), Merlin often finds himself on the receiving hand of nearly any assassination attempt, whether it was originally intended for him or not. 

"You do have a point, there," Arthur concedes, and Merlin's smile grows.

"I often do, love."

-

When Arthur lays in bed with Merlin that night, after a long, exhausting day of touring the palace and city to take inventory of just what damage was wreaked by Owain (or whatever the monster’s name was), he can feel Merlin’s magic against his skin. It settles against his flesh like little raindrops, prickling in a refreshing way.

"I love you," Merlin says, pressing a kiss to Arthur's lips.

"I love you too, Merlin," Arthur says, and those words aren't big enough to express the wealth of emotions swelling up in him. There's no way to put into words just how relieving and natural it feels to say Merlin's real name for the first time in months.

But for now, kissing Merlin back will have to do for a start.

**Author's Note:**

> Not my best work, but it's been sitting in my drafts for literal months now and so I decided to polish it up and post it. I hope at least one person enjoyed it, and that it made some sort of sense.


End file.
